Torn In Three
by Captain 'Stina
Summary: When Peter Pan takes adopted Elsa to Neverland, she finds happiness like she had never had before. But a certain pirate captain, his curious bos’un, a figure from the past and an Indian named Leaping Fire combine to make a strange adventure...
1. Pirates Are Mean

**CHAPTER I - Pirates Are Mean  
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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in this chapter apart from "Edward", Rummy, Jukey and Weasel. The rest © J. M. Barrie.**

**Here we go - Chapter One of my "proper" Panfic (as I like to call them). As you may guess, the first part is spelled wrong on purpose - it is meant to be written phonetics, as this character writes as he speaks. I hope you have fun (and not too many problems) deciphering it!**

**And before we go one, I am going to ask you to do what just about every other writer on this site does - if you like this story, want to make a comment, a suggestion, or just want to moan at me for how rubbish you think it is, feel very free to Review - I'd appreciate it very much!**

**With Pixie Dust and Happy Thoughts,**

**Little Sparrow.**

_Tooday iz the ninnthe of joo-lye, and i am ritten my diearry. there is sumthin verry impourtahnt i hav too sey. so lissen verry carfoolly._

_Yoo no, diearry, ive been doin sum thinkin. the capn caym from the normal wurrld, dint e? the wurrld that aint nevaland, dint e? wel, ive offen wundered weather e remembaz oar mises his littel bruther. i rememba im torkin abowt is bruther wen e furst caym ear, sumwun calld edwood (i fink thats ow its spellt, anyway). e sed ther muther waz "fayvorabbly disspozed" towards edwood (agen, spellin may be rong) an e was jellus of im. as the capn fourgottan? duz e rememba?duz e wanna rememba? im confewzd. I sey this beecuz somwun haz justt sed the naym edwoor tooday, an the capn stormd offf too is cabin. e woent even lemme tork too im. i am verry confewzd nowe. _

_eneeway, enuff abowt that. tooday wuz the saym az yu- yoo -_

_yoozuall - _

_yooshull - _

_o, wel, tooday wuz sam as norrmul. the krockadiel tryd too eet the por capn agen, and i ad too shoo im away (the krock, knot the capn). starky tryd too nik sum rum this morrnin, and wuz chukd in the see - yett agen! e iz a rarscul, i fink. _

"What you writin' there, Smee?" sniggered Starkey right behind Smee, making the short, nervous bos'un squeak and jump to his feet, clutching the ragged red notebook to his chest and fighting to keep his spectacles from sliding off his nose.

Starkey grinned mischieviously and attempted to snatch the book, yelling, "Eh! Come over 'ere, you lot! Mr. Smee's writin' a novel!"

Like a bunch of alley cats pouncing on a mouse, the majority of the _Jolly Roger's_ crew came charging over to Starkey and his quivering victim. The whole lot of them were powered by high-percentage alcohol, and were simply spoiling for a fight and a bit of action.

"Whassit about Smee?" questioned a hulking corsair with messy ginger hair. "Is it - "

"A romantic novel!" yelled another, who was clutching a bottle with something apparently quite strong inside, because the pirate took a gulp and immediately giggled madly, his eyes out of focus. "Tha's what it is, Jukey, I betcha!" he hiccupped.

Jukey, the ginger-haired pirate, grinned wolfishly, showing yellow teeth. "You're right, Rummy! _E's in LOVE_!" he shrieked, waving his hands around and hopping on the spot.

"Woooo!" teased the others, making kissing noises and roaring with laughter.

"'oo is it, Pee-Wee Smee?" whispered Starkey in a chummy fashion, nudging a red-faced Smee conspiratorially as if to say, "Go on, you can tell me anything".

"It's - it's n - not - " stuttered Smee, finding his voice. But Rummy interrupted.

"It's Tinkerbell, ain't it?" he bellowed with a hearty guffaw. The others howled with mirth, holding onto each other in an effort to stay upright.

"No!" squealed Smee indignantly, still trying to keep hold of his diary whilst a snorting Starkey attempted to wrestle it out of his grip.

"I know! I know!" roared another pirate with his front teeth missing. Everyone looked at him.

"What, Weasel?" demanded Rummy after taking another swig of his drink. Weasel giggled as he paused for suspense. Then he bellowed:

"TIGER LILY!"

That did it. Now every single pirate who did not have stomach cramps from hilarity already was crying with laughter, collapsing to their knees or gripping each other's shoulders.

"T-T- Tiger Lily!" gasped Starkey from his position - currently rolling around on the deck. "Aw, that's good, Weasel! Eh, Smee - is it? Fancy yerself as an Injun Prince, do ya?"

"And just _what_ is going on here?"

Everyone, even the paralysed-with-laughter Starkey, stopped dead. They knew that voice. Low, flowing, deadly, like the snarl of a panther, like silk flowing over flesh - they knew that voice.

"Captain," they whispered as one.

**Pirates are mean, aren't they? Sniggers with her own inventiveness and evilness**

**Chapter II - "A Long Forgotten Memory" - is coming soon. In the meantime, please Review this chapter, and thank you for reading!**


	2. A Long Forgotten Memory

**CHAPTER II - A Long Forgotten Memory**

**DISCLAIMER: Elsa, Celestria, Maelstrom and Captain (not THAT Captain) are my creations, but Peter Pan and Tinkerbell are © J. M. Barrie.**

**So - Chapter II is ready to be R&R'd, and I would particularly love some of your views on "The Trio" (Elsa's cats), just to see what you think of the whole "cats-in-a-Peter-Pan-story-are-you-crazy?" concept (I have a habit of placing cats into most of my stories). I also hope you like meeting our heroine. **

**Also note: The Peter I use here is based on the Peter in the Universal/2003 version.**

**Enjoy!

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Elsa had no reason to like or believe in fairy tales. Having lived in foster care since before she could remember, her thoughts were solemn and her actions were practical. Each set of foster parents she had ever had remarked on this in various ways: some comically, some affectionately, and some with mild interest that soon fizzled out, because anyway she wouldn't be staying with them for long and it didn't matter that she was always moping around with a face longer than a bloodhound's.

Elsa wasn't particularly pretty - she was short, neither here nor there in the weight stakes, and had a small mouth that seemed to permanently cemented in an expressionless line. She considered her best feature to be her long, curly, almost-black-but-not-quite hair, that fell almost to her shoulders and was the envy of many girls at school.

Another gift that she had was an affinity with cats. Her current foster parents had a large tortoiseshell, which had been seduced a while back by an unknown tom, and this liaison had produced three rangy kittens - one tortoiseshell, one grey, and one midnight black, one female and two males. Elsa's foster mother had declared that all three belonged to Elsa, and she was given the option to name them.

Many names had flashed through her mind. Midnight for the black? No, too clichéd. How about Storm for the grey? Patchy for the tort? No, no, no, Elsa had told herself. They needed good, unusual names. They were cats, after all, not stupid little lapdogs.

In the end, she named the tort Celestria, the grey Maelstrom, and the black Captain, because of the way he bossed the others around. The three had taken an instant shine to Elsa - which, of course, was high unusual, even in one cat - and followed her about, pretending to be disinterested but really showing unending loyalty and affection.

All three had grown into beautiful young adults; what amused Elsa most was that each of the cats had developed their own personalities. Celestria was docile and motherly, willing to be picked up and stroked in exchange for a comfortable lap; Maelstrom was the proud one, quiet and sly, preferring to follow the others for most of the time, certainly not desiring any smothering; and Captain was the loudest of them all, a typical raucous tom, wily and fierce, but not averse to a sneaky cuddle.

The cats were curled on Elsa's bed at this moment, something that, strictly, wasn't authorized in the Cooper household, but Elsa allowed anyway because they were her cats. The trio were licking themselves, washing each other's ears roughly. Elsa let them carry on with their nightly routine, and set about hers.

The moon shone in through the open window; the July breeze was warm and enticing as Elsa sighed and made her way over to her dressing table. As Elsa sat and studied herself in the mirror, she started to think about her parents - as she usually did when night set in and she was left alone to think about her hidden lineage.

Her mother…short, with the same enviable hair that Elsa had been fortunate to inherit…Elsa twirled a ringlet in her fingers. Long dark eyelashes…she blinked once…olive skin…she touched her face…brown eyes? Or was that her father? Was he tall? With the same, small mouth? Was he pale? Dark?

What did their laughs sound like? How did they smile? Were they friendly people? Elsa liked to think so.

Then something which, for unexplained reasons, had troubled Elsa for many years. Celestria, as if sensing the importance of this moment, slipped off the quilt and sprung into Elsa's lap, her warm tortoiseshell presence comforting. Elsa stroked the cat's head once, took a deep breath, and spoke to her reflection.

"Did they believe in magic?"

"I hope they did!" came an indignant voice from outside.

Elsa spun round on her chair, sending Celestria leaping with a soft hiss.

The sight that greeted Elsa's fear-spiked eyes almost made her scream. There was a boy! A boy, watching her - from the window! The cats yowled and hissed angrily, and Captain bounded to the front of the group to protect them.

"You're _floating?_" screeched Elsa, forgetting that she was supposed to be alone in her room with three cats that couldn't speak. The boy cocked his head. _I know that face_, he thought. _Not just because…_

"Aren't you?" questioned Elsa, all traces of embarrassment that stemmed from wearing purple pyjamas disappearing to be replaced by utter amazement. The boy squinted at her.

"Well - not floating," considered the boy, looking thoughtful for a second. "But I can fly," he ended with a grin.

Elsa stared at the imp-like face of the boy. He had haphazard blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and a lithe figure. He was clad - Elsa looked closer, not daring to believe - in a warrior-like outfit of young, fresh green leaves. His smile was bright, vibrant, and his radiant face was smudged with dirt.

"Who _are_ you?" asked Elsa in a low voice, stepping forward with a massive effort.

"I'm The Boy Who Never Grows Up!" exclaimed the boy happily, zooming into the room and coming to a halt in front on Elsa's face. "You're big," he said simply.

"Excuse me?" snapped Elsa sharply, offended.

"You're almost a grown-up," continued the boy, reaching out to poke Elsa's shoulder. She batted his hand away impatiently.

"Whatever," she snorted, "but you still haven't answered my - oh my God, what is _that_?" she screamed.

A tiny yellow light had come whizzing into view, make odd tinkling sounds like a diminutive bell. It stopped on the boy's shoulder, and, to Elsa's even greater surprise, it was revealed as a tiny young woman with wings.

"A _fairy_?" gasped Elsa, feeling faint. This was too much.

The winged woman tinkled agitatedly. The boy listened closely. "She says of course she's a fairy…and could you please stop gawping like an idiot, " he translated cheerfully.

Elsa bared her teeth. "What - you- argh! Just tell me who you are or get out!" she said shrilly.

"All right, all right," the boy replied, sounding sulky. "That's Tinkerbell - " he pointed at the pixie on his shoulder - "and I'm Peter Pan."

_Pan. Pan. Peter Pan._

"_He's 'The Boy Who Never Grew Up'."_

"_Neverland."_

"_Tinkerbell."_

"_Magic!"_

_Magic. Magic. MAGIC._

"Magic," whispered Elsa, tears clouding her eyes. She knelt on the floor and stared straight ahead. Although she didn't know it, she had recalled what her mind had been urging her to remember for years. _Peter Pan._

"Magic," she mouthed.

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**Spooky...**


	3. A Secret Uncovered?

**CHAPTER III - A Secret Uncovered ?**

**I won't say anything except - R&R please. Emotions run high in this…**

**Oh, and thanks to tinkerflyinbell1 for my 1st review! **

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Peter hovered awkwardly. Tinkerbell jingled worriedly in Peter's ear. "I don't know," confessed Peter, sounding uncertain.

"Peter," said Elsa softly. By now, the cats had come to join their mistress, and were watching the stranger and the bright light with round green (and, in Maelstrom's case, yellow) eyes. "Peter."

Peter landed and knelt in front of Elsa. "Yes?" he said, just as gently. The cats sniffed warily. Tinkerbell tinkled quietly.

"I recognize you, but I've never seen you before," Elsa whispered, looking deep into Peter's eyes. Her tear-filled gaze seemed to ask, "Why?"

"That's because - " Peter broke off; his normal, childish self was telling him to get on with it, whilst a newer, more sensitive and - dare he acknowledge it? - sensible side was saying, "Be careful."

Tinkerbell trilled lightly, encouraging both Peter and Elsa. The cats mewed tentatively.

"It's because your mother used to tell you stories about - me," began Peter. "You were really small - a baby. I used to hover outside your window and listen to the stories. I like stories about me, " he added with a touch of arrogance. Elsa sniffed, more out of emotion than irritation.

"Anyway - I said to Tinkerbell that I would come back for you when you were a bit older, and we could go to Neverland together - do you remember Neverland?" He broke off, worried somewhat by the prospect of his new Mother - for that was what she was, according to him - not remembering the existence of the very place from whence he came.

"I - I don't know," murmured Elsa. "I was told something - I know the name - but…" she trailed off. Peter spoke up, anxious to explain and chivvy Elsa's memory.

"Well, anyway, I said we could go to Neverland. But when I came back for you, a few years ago - you weren't there. Your mother wasn't there. No one was. I had lost you. I think you would have been…wait a minute…" He counted on his fingers. "I think you would have been about ten years old," he concluded.

"Ten? You came - ?"

"Yes. How old are you now?"

"Fifteen."

There was silence, during which the cats continued to glare at Tinkerbell and Peter and Elsa held each other's gaze.

"But - what happened to you?" asked Peter suddenly. Elsa lowered her eyes.

"I - I...Listen. About my parents - I don't what happened to them. I lost them before I was three, I was told. No one told me what happened to them. I can't remember them at all, and no one seems to want me to be able to."

Elsa felt anger rising, unbidden, from her heart. "I've been passed around like an unwanted present for most of my life, and I don't even know who my parents were. They could've left, they could be in another country, they could be dead for all I know!" She covered her face with her fingers.

Peter sensed her distress. He put a small, dirty hand on her shoulder. "Death is an awfully big adventure," he told her plainly.

Elsa raised her eyes. A tear shimmered on her eyelashes. Her hand automatically went up to play with her hair, as was her habit.

It was then that Peter knew why he recognized her.

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**That's all you're getting for now…Chapter IV - "Off To Neverland" - is coming soon. Once again, thanks for R&R'ing!**


	4. Off To Neverland

**CHAPTER IV - Off To Neverland**

**We now find out why Peter reacted so badly in the last chapter - and why he wants to take Elsa to Neverland with him.**

**Please R&R - and most of all, enjoy reading.**

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**"Your hair!" he cried incredulously, leaping up. 

"What?" said Elsa, shocked. She felt her head in case there was something perched on top of it that was causing Peter to fly away from her. "WHAT?"

"You - you -_hair!" _spat Peter, now backed against the ceiling. Tinkerbell zipped around like a lightning bolt,squealing and babblingfuriously.

"Why my hair?" demanded Elsa angrily, getting to her feet. "And what is wrong with you?"

"You have - but, oh my - Tink - you don't think -?" babbled Peter urgently, switching his address from Elsa to Tinkerbell.

The pixie jingled crazily, looping and twisting wildly in the air, seemingly frightened. Maelstrom crouched and wiggled his rear, eyes fixed on Tinkerbell. Celestria clawed at her grey brother to warn him not to do anything stupid, and Captain rebuked them both with a hiss.

Peter ignored both Tinkerbell and the cats, and instead frowned at Elsa. "You say you don't know your parents?" he repeated.

"Of course I don't! I've said, haven't I?" exclaimed Elsa, hoping that she wouldn't start crying again. She already felt a fool for bursting into hysterics the moment a strange boy and his pathetic fairy mentioned her mother and Neverland.

"Well - oh, come on, we've got no time to waste!" shouted Peter, seizing a by now dizzy Tinkerbell and flying towards Elsa, who ducked.

"Stay still!" commanded Peter, accompanied by a high-pitched squeal from Tinkerbell, who was dangling from his grip by her insubstantial green dress. "And you," he instructed the struggling pixie. She sighed and rolled her eyes, and Peter released her with another order:

"Pixie dust, Tink! Now!"

Obligingly, Tinkerbell sprinkled golden shimmering particles over an opened-mouthed Elsa. Some landed on the cats, who all sneezed violently. Maelstrom, who had been keeping an eye out for this likely-looking meal, saw the pixie dart above and his eyes lit up.

"Mal!" screamed Elsa. Celestria and Captain hissed wildly. Peter laughed in spite of the seriousness of the situation, and Tinkerbell jingled.

For Maelstrom, aided by pixie dust and a very happy cat thought indeed, had risen into the air. He was now hovering about ten inches off the floor, his eyes still fixed on Tinkerbell. When he realised that he was not on the ground, he tumbled down with a yowl of surprise. Elsa leapt forward to catch the terrified cat, but was saved the trouble by Peter, who darted across with the speed of lightning and plucked Maelstrom from his fate.

"It's OK, kitty," soothed Peter, trying to restrain the cat. Elsa watched as Maelstrom, normally so collected, struggled and screeched. She held out her arms for the cat and Peter gave him to her, glancing ruefully at the scratches he had received for his troubles.

"What happened - and what's - " began Elsa, gawping at Peter.

"It's pixie dust - if you get sprinkled with it, and then think a happy thought, you can fly," explained Peter. He sounded a little hurt. "Don't you remember from the stories?" he asked in a small voice.

"I - " Elsa was about to say, "I don't, and I'd thank you for not mentioning those childish tales," but thought better of it when she saw Peter's dejected expression.

Then another odd thing happened - suddenly, she _did_ remember something about a happy thought….something spoken in a gentle, mother-type voice…

"_Think happy thoughts…"_

"I think I do," answered Elsa, not looking directly at Peter and busying herself with placing Maelstrom on the floor. Peter grinned again.

"It's easy! Come on, then!" he urged excitedly, taking hold of her hand.

"But - but I can't leave them here!" cried Elsa, looking towards her cats, who stared back balefully. Captain strode forward boldly, meowing loudly as if to say, "You dare leave us behind."

"Well - they won't fly, will they?" Peter told her impatiently. "So come on - "

"No! Wait! I think I've got their harnesses and leads somewhere…wait a sec…" Elsa bustled off to rummage through her drawers. Peter rolled his eyes and turned to Tinkerbell to conduct a silent conversation.

"_Do you think she is his daughter?"_

"_I'm fairly sure of it, Tink. Look at her hair! We need to take her to Neverland and make her our Mother, before Hook comes for her!"_

"_But - but you don't even know her name!"_

"_I can find out."_

"_Oh, Peter, you're so stubborn! Listen to me - she doesn't know who or what she is herself - what if you're wrong?"_

"_Just trust me on this, Tink."_

"_Oh! And while we're at it, how can you remember her mother and her stories? It was nearly fourteen years ago, Peter!"_

"_Well, she was born to be a Neverlander. She believed and - "_

"_But you've been thinking about her, haven't you, otherwise you wouldn't have remembered her and dragged me on this wild goose chase."_

"_You sound jealous. Tinkerbell…"_

"_Hmph."_

"_Tinkerbell?"_

"_Do you - do you think she's pretty?"_

"_That's why you're acting so strange! Don't sound so hurt, Tink! She would make a good Mother, but you still mean more to me than anything in this whole world."_

"_Thank you, Peter."_

Captain and Maelstrom watched this soundless connection with suspicion. Celestria licked a foreleg absently.

"Ah - here we are!" announced Elsa, emerging from under her bed clutching a handful of velvety straps.

A few minutes later, the three cats were harnessed and leashed, and Tinkerbell re-applied the pixie dust to them and to a nervous-looking Elsa.

"Now - hold on tight to my hand and the cats and think a happy thought," instructed Peter.

"But - but I don't…" Elsa faded away. Did she possess any happy thought at all?

"Of course you do! Everyone has a happy thought! Well - except…" he broke off, then gazed intently at Elsa, who narrowed her eyes in uncertainty.

Elsa thought for a second. Then she remembered her mother's voice, and immediately she rose into the air, followed by three complaining, but securely harnessed, felines.

"Off we go!" cried Peter excitedly as the party, cats, children and pixie, soared out of the window. Elsa fought back a scream that was half-terrified, half-elated.

"Oh my God!" she gasped. "I - I'm flying!"

"Of course you are," snorted Peter, as if it would be stupid for anyone not to know they could fly.

"We've got a long way to go now - and I don't even know your name." Tinkerbell rang out in order to make Peter acknowledge the fact that it had been her who had pointed this out in the first place.

"My name is Elsa," replied Elsa. "And that is Celestria, that is Maelstrom, and the big black one is called Captain."

Peter threw a nasty look at Captain, who stared back icily. Peter shrugged and turned back to Elsa.

"Now, you see that star - up there." He pointed up to an immensely bright star, twinkling merrily and looking grandly beautiful amongst the other, seemingly duller, constellations.

"Yes?"

"That's the Second Star to the Right: the way to Neverland. And that's where we're headed!"

"Second star to the right - and straight on till morning!" gasped Elsa. "I remembered!"

"I knew you could!" cried Peter, laughter sparkling in his eyes. Tinkerbell tinkled joyfully. Elsa laughed and wept at the same time, tears glistening and falling to the world below as she sped ever closer towards her past.

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**And off they go…next chapter, "A Flash Of Red" will be here soon. Thank you once again. **


	5. A Flash Of Red

**CHAPTER V - A Flash Of Red**

**DISCLAIMER: No one except Weasel is mine in this chapter; Hook and Smee © J. M. Barrie.**

**Well, we're back with the "Jolly Roger" and its crew - and a certain diary is poised to cause a stir…**

**Enjoy, and please R&R, especially with your views on how I've portrayed Hook who, for the record, is based on Jason Isaacs' interpretation of the character.

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"Get up." The order was hissed from the corner of bloodless, slender lips. It made the crew scramble to their feet and stand, frozen, around a quivering Smee, who was still clutching his diary.

James Hook flung his hair over his shoulder impressively and stared around at his fellows.

"Which one of you dogs would care to explain why you are acting like possessed _children_?" The last word was barbed, baited and ready.

There was a rushing silence. The man beautifully dressed in rich navy material and black leather boots narrowed his sword-blooded blue eyes and twisted his mouth in the beginnings of a snarl. White teeth flashed for a fraction of a second, and the crew began to chatter, frightened by authority.

"We -"

"Captain - "

"T'ain't -"

"SILENCE!"

The Captain took a step forward, lifting his hook and holding it aloft.

"Smee."

The bos'un couldn't have looked more terrified if faced with an army of sea serpents. He squeaked and his breathing quickened, his eyes wide and laced to the hook with burning ropes of obedience.

"Tell me, Mr. Smee, why this group of halfwitted fleabags were rolling around on the deck like gutted Lost Boys?" asked Hook with a growl.

"Uh…um…"

The crew stared about, looking anywhere but at their Captain.

"Well?" The word was laden with restrained impatience.

"It was, 'cos of my…" started Smee squeakily. He hiccupped nervously and attempted to regulate his breathing.

"_Because of your what?" _

Hook's eyes, always ready to search for small details with the precision of a leopard, switched to Smee's hands - and the book clasped in between them. Smee jumped as though startled and tried to whip the diary out of sight. But his fumblings were useless.

"Mr. Smee," began Hook evenly, twirling the maladroitly-curved hook contemplatively.

The pirates' eyes widened. A few gulped.

"Would you care to show me that book?"

If Smee hadn't been Smee, and if Hook had been most any other man in the entire world, the answer could well have been "No." But Smee, being Smee, and realizing the horrible fact that he could never say anything but what his Captain wanted to hear, mustered just about enough breath to mumble, "Yessir."

The long-fingered left hand extended in the air.

Smee found he couldn't move his feet, or indeed any other part of his person.

"Mr. Smee."

"Yyyesrightsir!" babbled Smee, falling forwards. Weasel sniggered with derision.

A bang exploded into the air and Weasel slumped onto the deck, a smoking bullet hole in his chest. Hook replaced the gun in his belt and took the diary from Smee's chubby, sweating fingers.

Smee wished for a timely crocodile appearance, or an Indian attack, or a Pan flyover - anything to stop that diary being opened…

Hook held the red book in his left hand and lifted the cover with his hook. He saw the scribbled writing and narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the many grammatical and spelling mistakes.

The page was turned, turned again…

Smee's breathing became squeaky and panicked. He wanted to step backwards, away from the cruel hook that would surely bring death to him today.

Another page.

Smee watched the forget-me-not blue eyes slide over the words - and saw them stop.

The hook became motionless.

A hiss of breath escaped the Captain's lips.

A red flash darted crazily across the black pupils.

The pirates scattered. Only Smee was left, cowering like a cornered rabbit.

"C-Captain…p-please…"

"Get out of my sight."

Smee fled.


	6. Requiem For The Past

**CHAPTER VI - Requiem For The Past**

**DISCLAIMER: Hook is not mine. But I wish he was.**

**Before I go on: **

**_PLEASE_ review this, I have worked so hard on all of this story, and it would be nice to get some feedback! _Please please PLEASE_ review - I know, sometimes all you wanna do is to read a story, but with a little bit of effort you can just add a couple of lines about what you love, hate, wish to eat/hug/kick…it makes this all so much more worthwhile, and helps when writing further chapters.**

**Now that we've established that…**

**When writing this chapter, I was listening to Kelly Clarkson's "Addicted", and these lyrics seemed to fit this chapter perfectly:**

"…**It's like you're a ghost that's haunting me - **

**Leave me alone.**

**And I know these voices in my head **

**Are mine alone…"**

**So, know you know my inspiration, here's the chapter - a glimpse into the past of a dark, troubled man…

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The cabin door, with the lustrously-engraved nameplate proclaiming its occupant to be "Captain Jas. Hook", slammed forcefully into place. A kind of silence appeared to be locked in the room: a silence that was ready to receive emotion, if there was to be any.

James hurled the diary onto the floor; several pages flew out and drifted across the polished wood. A booted foot ground down upon the book itself, smearing dirt across the already tattered cover. Hidden snarls crept around bared teeth, longing to be made real. Anger coursed through James and drove him to stamp furiously all over the wretched diary and its horrible truths and memories. He wanted to shout, wanted to hurt something, someone, and was not quite sure why…

Then, all at once, the fury left the man. The snarls were forced back into the treasure chest of a shadowed soul. A hand went up to run through dark curls, and all that could be heard were ragged breaths and the sound of a metal hook being sunk into wood.

For a while, James, couldn't bring himself to say the name out loud, even as a whisper. He cast a black look at the ruined diary and its loose pages, clenching his fingers around the edge of the table. His hook was buried into the furniture piece itself.

Years. Hundreds of years, or was it more? Was it less? This cursed Neverland had a habit of stealing one's sense of time, thought James with a growl. An age had passed since his childhood in London - a childhood shared with his brother…

No! Why should he remember now? Why should he be made to recall his past just because a lowly crewmate had written a pathetic diary account of it, spelled atrociously and completely incorrect anyway?

James withdrew his hook from the tabletop and brushed splinters from its more awkward angles. He could feel a pulsing beat surfacing behind his eyes, inevitable leading to a headache. He sat down and thought.

He had never expected Smee to be able to recognize any of his moods, let alone be so adept at reading them and linking them to other occurrences. Though it hurt to admit it - and let it be said that James Hook would rarely risk damaging his pride through admittance of anything - Smee had delved straight into one of James' most private secrets and connected it with some behavioural traits with unanticipated skill.

Only Smee had ever known that James had had a younger brother. Now James came to think of it, he could remember telling Smee everything about his sibling, and then making him swear he would never repeat any detail to another living soul. That was back when (James laughed bitterly) he had possessed two hands and fought with a sword in his right. Before he had met Pan. Before he had been Hook. _Captain _James Hook.

James exhaled derisively and got to his feet again. Slipping into the past was a hateful exercise, yet one he was prone to, being a man of substantial grudge-bearing.

_A lion in a cage…a lion in a cage…_

His thoughts were wandering. He found himself feeling tired, restless, and then found he could not alleviate this feeling without resorting to murder or suchlike. What had he become? It seemed like so long ago he had resided in London, with his younger brother…he supposed he had had a mother and a father, but no recollection of their faces came to him when he cared to recite their names. No, he could only remember Edward.

Edward George. The clever one. The loved one. The boy with dark curly hair and gentle brown eyes, the boy with an extensive library of polite remarks and compliments. James sneered. Edward had been nothing more than a smarmy worm.

Then there was James: the one with wild hair and piercing blue eyes, a scornful twist in his lips and a heart full of daring and selfishness. People, if they had met his brother first, would cast a critical eye over the tall youth almost always to be found playing with - or torturing - a captured spider, dismiss him as a terrible mistake, and turn away in favour of the quiet boy who sat in the drawing room reading books about philosophy.

James and Edward; his name had always come first, since he was the eldest, and therefore naturally considered first. But there had been no doubt who their mother had preferred.

"Darling little Edward," spat James now, pacing his cabin. "Sweet little Edward. What became of you? Did you become a clerk, like Mother wanted? I could have become a clerk - I was offered the job. But you would have been better than me anyway." James felt the anger rise again. "I am glad that I left, left you all. And now, I live in no one's shadow. No one!"

It was then that James realised fully that he had been speaking out loud. He stopped in his tracks, then crossed the cabin to the full-length mirror next to his bed. He leaned in to it, studying his face.

"A lion in a cage," he muttered. "A lion in a cage."


	7. Arrival In Neverland

**CHAPTER VII - Arrival In Neverland**

**childish pout PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Back to Elsa and Peter now, and all six of them are coming in to land. A transitional chapter, nothing too serious - well, after that last chapter, I thought you all deserved a break.**

**You will by now have realised that this fanfic takes place as though Hook had never been devoured by the crocodile, and the Lost Boys had not found a home with the Darlings. That, for the record, is how I though the story should have turned out (being a Hook fan ;) ). It is also quite convient for this story! Oh, and Tink is not dead, unlike in the book - that is just too sad, much as she annoys me. **

**This chapter is dedicated to my cousins.**

**Enjoy!

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You may have thought that Elsa wouldn't just have flown out of her bedroom window with a boy that claimed he never aged without some doubt. And you would have been partly true - if Elsa had still been living with her parents.

For Elsa had developed, in the most crude fashion acceptable, a "sixth sense" - a sense that told her whether she was near her parents. She had been unaware of it - until now. This sense is part of the few bits of magic still remaining on Earth. When a child is taken from their parents, and if they want to find them badly enough, their heart begins to piece together what they want most with what they can remember, until the sense that tells them that something or someone is connected with their parents emerges. All children have the potential to form this sense, but not everyone loses their parents, which is a thankful occurence.

And so, Elsa had felt this sense telling her that Peter Pan, already a link to her childhood, was part of the key to her history too. So all doubt, fear and whatever else had disappeared when she had flown out into the night.

- - -

"Did all of that really happen?" asked Elsa shakily. She was most certain that this wasn't a dream any more.

"Yep," answered Peter, concentrating on the route ahead. "And now -" he paused dramatically - "We're in Neverland!"

They broke through a covering of clouds onto a fabulous scene. The island floated in the centre of a sapphire-blue ocean. The green hills, emerald jungle and pink-white clouds swirled together in a fabulous mix of colour. It all looked so lush and alive that Elsa was totally speechless.

Everything that might have felt odd or unreal - the flying, the fact she was in pyjamas, the feeling that leaving home with this strange boy and his pixie was right - simply melted away. This was like - like _coming home_.

"Neverland…" The name sounded wonderful when Elsa said it.

"Mmm-hmm," mumbled Peter as a means of response, his vivid eyes searching the jungle ahead. Tinkerbell squealed with delight and dashed off ahead; her flitting, light-enhanced figure darted this way and that until it hurt Elsa's eyes to attempt to follow her. Instead, Elsa dropped her gaze to the gently sighing sea below; the water was a brilliant, sparkling blue, darkening to the right in what could be a lagoon; to the left, and farther out to sea, was a great, black ship. Elsa regarded it with some interest, wondering who or what lived on it.

"Come on!" called Peter suddenly, and he went into a steep dive. Elsa began a feeble process, chanced a worried look at the three cats, and followed. Her stomach turned and she considered for a moment whether she might be sick.

"Peter!" she yelled, desperately trying to keep up with the lithe green figure speeding off. "Oh for - "

"Into the clearing!" shouted Peter excitedly, pointing at a patch of land free of shrubbery ahead. Elsa stopped her complaining and followed as best she could.

As she flew (and even that thought alone was thrilling), Elsa cast her mind back. Was it only yesterday (she supposed it had been yesterday: she had left on Friday night, and now it was morning) that she had sat in Maths, French, History and other ordinary lessons and fretted over the ever-nearing Chemistry coursework deadline? Was it really the maximum of twelve hours ago that she had attacked her hair in front of the mirror, sighing about Assembly and Prefect duty?

"Coming in to laaaaaaand!"

"WHOA!" exclaimed Elsa, pirouetting untidily in the air and hitting the ground with a thud. The three cats mewed and scrambled for pawholds, Captain getting tangled in his harness and growling in his throat. Elsa freed him, checked all of them were alive and uninjured, and looked around at Peter, who was standing, hands on hips, looking very pleased with himself indeed.

"Welcome to Neverland!" he announced importantly. And now - to meet the Lost Boys!"

"Lost - " began Elsa questioningly, but her enquiry was quelled by the distant shouts and arguments of what sounded like a pack of chimpanzees. She tried to gauge where the sound was coming from; but there was no need, for suddenly, a bundle of dirt-smudged, ruffian-like boys came spilling from holes in the tree trunks bordering the clearing. Elsa was too surprised to say anything.

"Who-?"

"What-?"

"Peter-!"

"Hullo Tink!"

The excited voices rose to make a chorus of undisciplined noise. Peter, glancing quickly at Elsa to make sure sh was looking, drew himself up and barked, "Boys!"

The group of children fell hastily into line, as silent as the clouds in the sky. Peter patrolled down the line, imagining himself to be very important. Tinkerbell watched from a nearby tree branch, kicking her legs restlessly. The cats, alarmed by the noise, attempted to clamber up the tree too, but Elsa gripped their leads and hoped they would cease struggling.

"Now," began Peter in the voice of one very much in charge, "this, boys, is Elsa."

A buzz of excitement rose immediately, and Peter stepped forward. The boys stopped chattering and settled for pointing and staring instead.

"Like Wendy, and Jane, and Margaret, and all the others, she has come -"Peter paused significantly, "to be our mother!"

"I remember mothers!" cried one of the boys immediately; he had a snub nose and dark, messy hair.

"Me too!" agreed two identical boys - twins, of course.

Peter was about to reprimand them, then thought better of it. Instead, he looked at Elsa - and was shocked to see the horror on her face.

"Mother?" she asked, bewildered. "But - but, I'm fifteen!"

This revelation seemed to have absolutely no effect on Peter or the boys at all. Peter simply smiled in a vacant, happy sort of way, whilst the boys spilled around her. Then Elsa was too preoccupied with greetings and introductions and preventing her cats being crushed to argue further.

"I'm Slightly," said the boy with the snub nose grandly. "Hello," said Elsa, shaking his muddy hand.

"Tootles," said a chubby, bashful-looking boy shyly. Elsa instantly liked him, and gave him a warm smile. He grinned back.

"Curly," said a bright, blonde boy.

"The Twins," chorused the identical brothers, bowing in a fashion that prompted Elsa to say, "How sweet!"

"She speaks like Jane!" squeaked Curly, and the boys pressed in on her even more.

Peter, meanwhile, was feeling most self-satisfied, and stood watching the scene. Tinkerbell flew down to his shoulder, and jingled.

"_Adventures, Peter?" _she asked knowingly, a smile on her face.

"Oh, yes," he said aloud. "Many."

Elsa was now being subjected to curious pokes from the boys - or the Lost Boys, as she now knew they were known as collectively.

"What are you wearing?" asked Slightly, rather bluntly, as he pulled at her pyjama top.

"It's - they're called pyjamas," replied Elsa, stepping out of reach. "Don't you know what pyjamas are?"

"Padanas…" echoed Slightly thoughtfully. "No, I have never heard of - _padanas_ before." He blushed, ashamed at having discovered something he didn't know.

"Ooh!" squealed Curly, leaping backwards. Elsa turned and saw a bleeding scratch on his leg, and then saw Captain with his claws out, obviously having just gashed the inquisitive stranger.

"Are you all right?" she asked in worry, bending to calm the cats yet addressing Curly.

"Yeah," said Curly evasively, "I got hurt a lot worser than this."

"You have?"

"Yeah," answered Curly, with a touch of pride, "when I fight the pirates."

There was silence as the boys regarded Elsa. She looked up slowly. "P- pirates?" _They must be joking, _she thought.

The boys fell back reverently as Peter strode forwards. "Yes," he said, mock-gravely, "Pirates."

Elsa gasped. What followed next seemed both beautifully rehearsed and designed to terrify anyone unused to talk of pirates.

"Cecco -"

"Wrote his name in blood on the back of a gaoler!" butted in Slightly.

"Bill Jukes -"

"Every inch of him tattooed!" cried Tootles, shuddering.

"Cookson -"

"Black Murphy's brother," intoned the Twins darkly.

"Gentleman Starkey, Alf Mason, Noodler," recited Peter, getting faster. "Weasel, Master Jukes, Rummy, Smee -"

He stopped. The Lost Boys inhaled obligingly.

"Hook!" cried Peter.

"Hook!" exclaimed Elsa, snatching her cats to her chest. "Who's _he_?"

"He is their Captain. The only man the Sea Cook ever feared. Blackbeard's bos'un. Captain James Hook, terror of the Spanish Main, a fearsome pirate with a hook instead of a right hand!"cried Peter theatrically, obviously relishing the moment. "And _I_ am his arch enemy!"

He sprang into the air, crowing like a cockerel. Elsa watched in astonishment.

"Really?" she asked breathlessly. Peter stopped crowing and landed, looking slightly put out.

"Yes, _really_," he answered snappishly. Regaining his boastful composure, he continued, "And we, the Lost Boys, fight the pirates _every day_! We kill tons!"

"Loads an' loads!" Slightly piped up.

"Really?" This time, Elsa was more shocked that anything. "You - you _kill_? But - but you're little boys!"

Peter scowled. "Doesn't mean we can't kill pirates," he muttered moodily.

Tootles, in a flash of inspiration, decided to lighten the tense atmosphere. "What are they?" he asked politely, pointing at the cats. Elsa looked at him, pitying his lack of intelligence.

"They're called cats," she explained. "Like - like - oh, I don't know…mini tigers."

Recognition crossed Tootles' rounded face, and he smiled. "Tigers! We have tigers here! Can they roar?" he inquired, waving a hand at the cats.

"Well - no, no, but they - they meow," continued Elsa. The blank look on the boys' faces prompted her to do something she would never have done ordinarily. "Like this," she said, and meowed.

"Wow!" shouted the boys, and began meowing in earnest.

"What are their names?" interrupted Slightly.

"Celestria, Maelstrom and Captain," informed Elsa, pointing at each in turn.

"Oh," remarked Slightly, and turned away again, distracted by a butterfly. Elsa felt disappointed: she had thought them to be desirable, amusing names. Obviously these boys were uneducated.

An awkward silence descended again. The boys stared at the cats or at Elsa, who looked to Peter for guidance. But he was conversing silently with Tinkerbell again, and paid his guest no heed.

"Well - what are we going to do?" asked Elsa.

Peter looked up and dashed forwards. "I think we should get you some new clothes," he said seriously, "because I have never heard of - of -"

"Padanas," offered Slightly.

"Yes, that, and so they can't exist," stated Peter, as though he had been stating that water will turn into ice if frozen. Elsa gawped, not sure how to reply.

"But where will we get _girls_ clothes?" asked Slightly.

"Where we got all the others," replied Peter, "in the trees!"

He pointed upwards. Elsa followed his finger, almost expecting to see a wardrobe floating among the branches. But all she could see were -

"Leaves?"

"Yep!" said Peter, indicating his own attire.

"I can't wear leaves!" cried Elsa, horrified. "That's - _savagery_!"

"What?" asked Peter sharply.

"It's - oh, don't worry. I'm - er - I just -" Elsa broke off, then decided to act humbly, in order to try and win Peter round. "I've never worn leaves before. I might tear them - and that wouldn't be good, would it?"

"No, I suppose you're right," answered Peter thoughtfully. The Twins bounded forwards and Peter bent to listen to them. They whispered in his ears, and suddenly he straightened up, looking delighted.

"I know!" he cried, "I've had a brilliant thought! We shall take you to the Indian camp! You can wear their clothes!"

Elsa opened her mouth to argue that wearing Indian clothing was almost as bad as wearing leaves, but then thought of something else.

"Indians?" she asked incredulously. "As in -"

"Yes!" cried the Lost Boys, and they began to dance and whoop like the stereotypical Red Indians you might see in a Western. Elsa giggled. This was odd, certainly, but by no means unpleasant.

"All right then!" she agreed enthusiastically, replacing her cats on the ground. "Let's go!"

"We're not _walking_," said Peter disdainfully. "Well - _they_ are," he added, pointing at the boys. "_We're_ flying. Come on!"

Elsa thought. "I can't fly with the cats again," she said slowly. "They hate it."

Tootles glanced at his companions, then shuffled forwards. "I can take them, if you want…Elsa," he said shyly.

Elsa was about to dispute, when she realised how much Tootles wanted to see the cats and interact with them. She handed him the leads. "Hold them tight," she ordered kindly, "and don't let them run off!"

"I won't," he promised gallantly.

Elsa grinned properly for the first time and rose into the air to join an already-waiting Peter and Tinkerbell.

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**squee REVIEW! PLEEEEASE! JUST A COUPLE OF WORDS!**


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